


Mawr A Bach

by springsnow



Category: Professional Wrestling, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Non-Sexual Age Play, Pancakes, Stuffed Toys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-09
Updated: 2019-09-18
Packaged: 2020-10-13 05:09:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20576987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/springsnow/pseuds/springsnow
Summary: Mark has a secret, and his boyfriend is about to find out what it is.





	1. Ni Yw'r Hyrwyddwyr

**Author's Note:**

> Alright, I already have _b i g s t r o n g f a m i l y_, but I just _had_ to write something with little!Mark. This is a man who apparently owns a Pikachu onesie, was talking about Pokemon when I met him, and dresses in shorts and backwards hats. How the hell could I _not_ write this? A quick note on translations: I speak a very small amount of Welsh and formerly lived in West Wales for three years, followed by a year in Cardiff, and as anyone who's lived in Wales can tell you, Welsh, while a beautiful language that does not deserve the stupid jokes people make about it, can be...confusing. Not because of the way it looks, but because, unlike English, there's no standardisation. I have seen the same word spelled two different ways _on the same goddamn sign_ in Ceredigion. The story title means (at least in West Welsh) "Big And Little". The title of the first chapter should translate to "We Are The Champions", but if I screwed up, I can only apologise. Gwydion is a legendary figure in Welsh mythology and has been compared to King Arthur, but I'm more inclined to see him as a bit of a Loki-esque figure in some of his stories. Please be forewarned that some of the stories about him do involve rape, and while I encourage people to get into Welsh mythology, please be careful if that's something that triggers you. I know that specifically the story about the stolen sheep involves an instance of at least planned rape. Cymru am byth is a Welsh nationalist (not the racist kind of nationalism, the anti-colonial kind of nationalism - although I'm sure there are sadly probably racist Welsh nationalists) slogan meaning "Wales forever", and it's pronounced 'cum-ree [stop giggling] am bith'. Kraken is Mark's pet tortoise, and he's real. He has an Instagram account (krakenthetortoise).

It was well past midnight by the time they staggered through the front door and collapsed on the sofa, Mark falling easily into Flash’s lap, both of them still laughing like a pair of giddy schoolboys.

“We did it,” Flash said, breathless and wide-eyed. “Oh my god. We actually did it.”

Mark giggled almost hysterically and buried his face in Flash’s neck. “First ever Welsh champions in WWE,” he mumbled. He pulled back and his hand found Flash’s cheek. They gazed into each other’s eyes for a moment before Mark closed the gap between them with a kiss. It was soft and sweet and it turned into another kiss, and another kiss, and eventually Flash had his hands in Mark’s hair and was kissing him over and over, and Mark’s hands were warm on Flash’s shoulders, and it felt like they were the only two people in existence.

“OK,” Mark said, finally pulling away, “I’m starting to get an adrenaline crash. Bedtime?”

“Fine with me.” Flash pressed another quick kiss to the corner of Mark’s mouth. Mark climbed off of him and headed through to the bathroom, blowing a playful kiss to him as he went. Flash stretched out on the sofa like an enormous cat and grinned dopily to himself. The first ever Welsh champions of any kind in WWE history. Ever! Them! Cymru am byth, indeed.

A few minutes passed, and he heard the bathroom door click open again. Mark stopped at the sofa on his way from the bathroom to the bedroom and leaned down to kiss Flash again. He was wearing a towel and his hair was damp; he’d taken a shower, apparently. Not that Flash could blame him—he’d probably have one of his own. He felt decidedly sweaty.

“All yours,” Mark said.

“I know you are,” Flash grinned cheekily. Mark snorted and slapped his shoulder.

“I meant the bathroom,” he said, rolling his eyes.

The bathroom was still humid from Mark’s shower. As he undressed, he noticed that, in the steam fogging up the bathroom mirror, Mark had drawn a little rocket ship. He smiled to himself and drew a little heart next to it. It would be gone by the time they woke up, but that didn’t matter.

He turned the temperature down before switching the shower on—they’d only been living together officially for a few days, but he’d been using the shower after Mark for years and knew that he liked his showers almost inhumanly hot—and stepped in. The water felt blissfully cool and refreshing on his overheated skin. He hummed to himself as he washed his hair. He was still buzzing, blood still pumping hard; it had been an effort not to kiss his boyfriend right there, in front of the entire crowd and the cameras, when the bell had rung, but he’d managed to restrain himself.

He switched the shower off and hopped out, quickly towelling his hair and grabbing his dressing gown from the back of the door. He tied the belt and headed out, switching the light off as he went. He made a brief detour to the kitchen to grab two glasses of water, said goodnight to Kraken, switched the living room light off, and headed off to the bedroom.

Mark was sitting up in bed, looking at something on his phone. He was wearing his glasses and those NASA pyjamas, the ones Flash liked—they were nothing special, but they were cute. Then again, as far as Flash was concerned, everything looked cute on Mark.

“Shouldn’t look at your phone right before bed,” he playfully chastised him, setting one of the glasses of water down on Mark’s nightstand.

“Sorry, dad,” Mark smiled. “But thank you for the water.”

“It’s alright. Anything good?”

“Just checking Instagram.” Mark switched his phone off and cuddled up to Flash. “You alright?”

“More than alright. You?”

“Mm. Tired.”

“Get some sleep, yeah?”

“Wanna story,” Mark grinned sleepily, face pressed into Flash’s side. Flash laughed softly.

“Alright. What do you want to hear?”

“Hmm,” Mark said, pretending to think. “How about something about Gwydion?”

Flash smiled to himself as he grabbed his own phone. After a few minutes of searching, he settled on one that looked nice and concise, and began reading.

“Gwydion came from a magical family. His uncle Math was the son of Mathonwy, ruler of the land of Gwynedd. Math was a powerful magician, the strongest in all the realm. And Gwydion was no weak conjurer…”

Mark was asleep in a matter of minutes. Flash kissed the crown of his head and switched his phone off. He turned the lamp off and slid under the covers, holding his boyfriend close, and allowed himself to be enveloped by sleep.


	2. Morning Glory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “It’s alright. We can watch the kiddy stuff if you want.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise, we're getting to the regression stuff in the next chapter. For now, this is just Mark being a big kid.

Flash woke up to an empty spot next to him, the sound of Mark singing, and the smell of…pancakes? The bedroom door was open. He smiled, despite his headache, and swung his legs over the side of the bed.

Mark was still in his pyjamas, hair sticking up every which way, bopping along to some cheery pop-rock song playing on the radio. Kraken was in his tank, munching contentedly on a piece of lettuce. Flash leaned against the doorframe and watched Mark for a moment. It was cheesy as hell, but he really felt like he’d found what he’d been looking for. He joined Mark in the kitchenette, placing a hand over his and kissing him on the cheek.

“Morning,” Mark said brightly. “Pancakes?”

“Sounds good. Tea?”

“You’re an angel.”

Flash squeezed Mark’s hand and drifted off to fill up the kettle. He felt like he was still riding the adrenaline high from the night before, like his mind and body hadn’t quite absorbed it yet. They were the NXT UK Tag Team Champions. Him and Mark. Him and his _boyfriend_. For a moment, he stood and gazed out of the window at the Cardiff skyline as it seemed to glow a little in the bright light of a late summer sunrise, and caught himself grinning the same dopey grin he’d had the night before.

“Earth to Flash,” a voice said, and a warm hand on his hip brought him back to reality. He smiled bashfully.

“Sorry. Just thinking.” He filled the kettle and switched it on, leaving it to boil. He was still a little sore from the night before, but he barely cared. He allowed himself a small smirk as he remembered the way Gibson and Drake had scurried off, hiding behind their hands.

They ate at the table, bathed in the cool light of morning, as the world slowly came to life outside. The radio burbled away merrily in the background, accompanied by the sounds of Kraken crunching away at his lettuce.

“I was gonna head down to Tesco,” Mark said, sipping his tea. “Get some snacks. I thought we could have a day off and watch some stuff.”

“Sounds good to me. What were you thinking of watching?”

“Well,” Mark said thoughtfully, “we’ve got _Detective Pikachu_ and haven’t watched it yet.”

“Haven’t watched it yet?” Flash repeated, one eyebrow raised. “You saw it at the cinema four times.”

Mark grinned shyly. “Yeah, I know, but it’s good, isn’t it?”

“It is. You’re sure you don’t want to watch something else?”

“I mean, I figured we’d be watching more than one thing. What about that Studio Ghibli boxset?”

Flash smiled affectionately over the rim of his mug. “You don’t want to watch anything a little more grown-up?”

Mark squirmed slightly in his seat, his cheeks turning pink. “I just think they make good films,” he said, spinning his fork around his plate.

“It’s alright. We can watch the kiddy stuff if you want,” Flash reassured him. “Besides, I’m not in the mood for explosions or blood right now.”


	3. Mystery Box

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flash makes a discovery.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters in one day, you lucky things. Not much to say about this one, really. I had Mark's regression age at about four or so, although it's not really explicitly stated in the text. I've tentatively decided that this is set in the same universe as _b i g s t r o n g f a m i l y_, so look out for a potential crossover in the future.

In retrospect, Flash couldn’t say it was a _huge_ surprise. He’d known Mark for years, and he’d always been a bit of a big kid. Then again, there was a difference between being a big kid and…this.

He turned the sippy cup over in his hands. It wasn’t one of the ones made for babies, but rather one of the sports-type ones. His mind was going a mile a minute. He was pretty sure he’d know by now if Mark had a kid. Was he holding onto it for someone? Was it a present? Flash’s brow furrowed as he tried to think of who they knew who had a kid. There were a few, sure, but—

“Flash? Have you seen my—” Mark stopped mid-sentence, frozen in the doorway, staring at Flash. He’d seen what he was holding. His breath caught in his throat.

Flash turned to look at him, smiling a little. “Hey,” he said. “Is this yours?”

Mark swallowed thickly. His eyes dropped to the floor. “How did you find that?” he asked. His voice was suddenly very, very quiet.

“I went to move that box and it fell out. Sorry, you know how clumsy I—”

“You weren’t meant to—meant to see…” Mark trailed off. His chest was heaving, and Flash realised that he was trying very, very hard not to cry.

“It’s alright. Did you buy it for someone?”

A sob escaped Mark’s throat, and Flash stepped towards him, instinctively reaching out to hug him. Instead, Mark jerked backwards, tears spilling over his lashes and down his cheeks. Before Flash could say anything else, Mark had fled. Standing in the bedroom doorway, the sippy cup still in one hand and his arms hanging limply by his side, Flash watched as Mark ran out of the front door, slamming it behind him.

==

_what does it mean if_

Flash sighed and rubbed his face, hitting backspace. No, that didn’t sound quite right either. He sipped his coffee and tried to get everything straight in his head. His fingers hovered uncertainly over the keyboard, and after a moment’s thought, he began to type again, slowly.

_why does my boyfriend have a sippy cup_

He hit enter. He scrolled down page after page of results, but nothing relevant; it was all mummy blogs and online magazines talking about whether or not sippy cups would make your baby sick. He went back to the search bar and typed in _adult using sippy cup_, cringing a little as he hit the enter key again.

After a few pages of online stores selling sports bottles, he was about to give up when he noticed a link. _Sippy Cups & Adult Baby Bottles | Adult Baby Gear_ gazed up at the screen from him. He shifted uncomfortably in his chair. He’d heard about stuff like that, but only dimly. He had a vague memory of Mike (or was it Eddie?) talking about a documentary he’d watched about people who got off on pretending to be babies. No, that couldn’t be it. Not for Mark. Surely.

Hopefully.

He reluctantly clicked on the link, thanking god he’d had the mind to do the search in an incognito tab, and scrolled down. The page seemed fairly innocuous at first, just another niche online shop, just…one that sold baby bottles and sippy cups for adults. Across the top was a bar—_Clothing_, _Accessories_, _Utensils_ and _Info_. He hovered over _Info_ and clicked on _Blog_. His eyes were assaulted by a rainbow of pastels and a picture of a woman in a frilly pink dress and strappy shoes, and he quickly scrolled down to the text.

_What Is Age Play?_

Flash took a deep breath and began reading.

_Age play, simply put, is a form of roleplay in which one or more parties occupies a younger state of mind—usually that of a child, toddler or baby—and acts accordingly. It can be either sexual or non-sexual. People who partake in this regression sometimes call themselves ‘littles’, and they may have a caregiver, i.e. someone who takes care of them. They may call this person mommy or daddy, but not always. Littles have many different reasons for wanting to partake in age play—maybe they had a bad childhood, or they use it as a way of stress relief, or they just love kid stuff!_

Flash exhaled and scrolled down further. He was starting to feel a little more reassured about this, but he was really hoping it wasn’t a sexual thing for Mark. He loved his boyfriend dearly, but he wasn’t sure he was comfortable with the idea of fucking him while he was pretending to be a toddler. He sighed and looked down at Kraken, who was sitting on the arm of the sofa.

“I’m in way over my head here,” he complained. Kraken blinked at him and then retreated into his shell.

There was a section labelled _FAQ_. One of the first questions was, to Flash’s relief: _What if I find out someone I know is into age play?_

_There’s never an easy answer to that one, but the first thing you should do is be understanding. Even if it’s not your thing and you don’t want to take part in it, there’s no excuse to be mean about them. It can be very difficult for someone to talk about this sort of thing. If you’re willing, you could ask them if they want you to be involved._

_You could ask them if they want you to be involved._

Flash sat back and rubbed his mouth.

He and Mark were going to have a conversation.


	4. Bearing Gifts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mark and Flash have a little conversation - in more ways than one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The moment of truth (for Flash and Mark, anyway), Pokemon plushies, and sappiness. This is _probably_ the penultimate chapter but hardly the only story I'm going to write for these two in this situation. Enjoy!

Mark didn’t come home until almost six o’clock that evening, and when he did, Flash tried not to make much of a fuss. He’d been more worried than angry, and when Mark stepped through the door and smiled tiredly at him, he immediately walked over and hugged him as hard as possible. Mark stood still for a moment before hugging back, burying his face in Flash’s shoulder.

“Sorry,” Mark mumbled.

“Oh, don’t be daft,” Flash replied. “I’m just happy you’re alright.”

He pulled back, moving his hand to Mark’s and leading him over to the sofa. He brushed a hand through Mark’s hair and kissed him. “Now,” he said softly. “I want to talk about what I found this morning.”

Mark’s face immediately fell, and Flash felt terrible. No, that was a bad way of phrasing it, Mark was going to get upset—

“Are you going to leave me?” Mark’s voice was so small and cowed that it broke Flash’s heart. He grasped both of Mark’s hands and held them to his chest, gazing into his eyes in what he hoped was a firm but reassuring manner.

“Absolutely not,” he said. “I wouldn’t dream of it. Not for that.”

“I can throw it away,” Mark said quickly. “All of it. You don’t have to—”

“Mark, you’re babbling. Deep breath.”

Mark stopped and exhaled deeply. “OK,” he said. “OK. What do you want to talk about?”

“I did some research after you went out. I found this…this blog that talked about—well, they called it ‘age play’. Is that what it is?”

Mark’s brow creased slightly. “Yeah, but…it’s kinda complicated.”

“I can handle complicated.”

Mark shifted on the sofa and appeared to think for a very long time. Finally, he spoke again, and the first words out of his mouth were the biggest relief of Flash’s life.

“It’s not sexual,” he said firmly. “I’ve…I’ve never been turned on by it or anything. I can’t remember how it started, but I bought some kid stuff a few years ago and it just…just felt right. You know?”

Flash nodded understandingly. He slipped an arm around Mark’s shoulders, and Mark leaned into it. “It was just nice, being able to let go and pretend. It still is. But I thought—I thought you wouldn’t understand, or you’d laugh at me, or…”

Mark hid his face in Flash’s shoulder. Flash rubbed his arm. “It’s alright, Mark. I’m alright with it. I still love you.”

“I love you too.” Mark sat back. “So you don’t want me to throw everything away?”

“What? No! Mark, if it makes you happy, it makes me happy. You’re not hurting anyone, are you?” Flash rubbed the back of his neck. “I actually, um…I really hope it’s not overstepping, but I kind of bought you something.”

Mark cocked his head. “What?” he asked.

“It’s in the bedroom. I’ll just go fetch it.”

There was a toy store not too far from the apartment, and Flash had ducked in there earlier in the day. Among their wares was a rack of Pokémon plushies, and he’d picked out a stuffed Pikachu. For his nephew, he’d told the cashier, who had _aww_ed satisfyingly and given it to him in a plastic bag. Flash had tucked it under his coat on the way back to the apartment, dimly aware he looked suspicious but even more aware of the possibility that Mark would be home already and not wanting to fuck everything up.

He carried the toy, still wrapped in the bag, back through to Mark. Mark looked at it curiously for a moment, then, slowly, began to unwrap the bag. When he saw what was inside, he gasped softly.

Flash’s teeth worried his lower lip. Was this OK? Of course it was OK, why would Mark be upset about getting a Pikachu plush? Unless he already had one, which wasn’t out of the realm of possibility, or if he thought it was patronising or—

Mark hugged the plush to his chest, eyes squeezing shut. Flash realised he was trying not to cry.

“Thank you,” he said softly. “Thank you, Morgan.”

Flash’s heart jumped into his throat. He could count the number of times Mark had called him that on one hand—in order: the first time they’d met, when they’d had an argument about him misreading a road map on their way to an indie show in Ceredigion, and the first time he’d told him he loved him. It was rarer than hen’s teeth for anyone other than his parents to call him Morgan. 

“I was kinda worried you had one already,” Flash admitted. “I mean, I knew you had the Pikachu onesie.”

Mark smiled over the top of Pikachu’s head. “Don’t worry. I have a little Arcanine, but I’ve never had a Pikachu.”

He leaned over to kiss Flash, and for the first time since he’d found the cup, Flash was able to relax.


	5. Little Dragon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A rainy day, jam, and colouring books.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long. This is the final chapter, but I've got some other little!Mark stuff in the works, don't worry. Not much to say about this one. Enjoy!

Rain streamed down the windows, turning Cardiff into a multicoloured smear. Flash hummed softly to himself, trying to keep his nerves steady, as he busied himself in the kitchen. It was early, and Mark was still in bed; they’d agreed on today for him to regress, and Flash was…well, a little anxious. Not because he didn’t want to take care of Mark, but because he was beginning to realise that he had no idea how to take care of him. What if he threw a tantrum? What if he got upset or scared? What if—

He stopped and took a deep breath. _You’re overthinking it,_ he told himself. _What happens, happens. Just go with the flow._

“Flash?”

He turned, nearly dropping the mug he was holding. Mark was standing in the bedroom doorway, pyjama-clad and tousle-haired, holding his Pikachu by the arm.

“Hey,” he said. “Do you want some breakfast?”

Mark nodded, rubbing his eyes. “What are we having?”

“I was just going to make some toast,” Flash replied. “What would you like on it?”

“Jam,” Mark said, walking down the steps and sitting at the breakfast bar.

“How do we ask nicely?” 

Flash said, then cringed slightly at how awkward it sounded.

“Please can I have jam?” Mark tried.

“Of course.” Flash ruffled his hair, which felt a bit more natural. “Try not to get any on your Pikachu, alright?”

Mark pouted, and Flash had to bite back a laugh. He didn’t want Mark to think he was laughing at him, but he _was_ cute when he was trying to look sulky, regardless of whether he was big or little.

The day before, they had gone out and bought some more kid stuff for him—some crayons and colouring books, a box of Lego, some bath toys—all of which Mark had insisted on paying for. “You’re already taking care of me,” he’d told Flash when he had protested. “I can’t ask you to pay for all this as well.”

Mark swung his legs as he ate, wiggling slightly in his seat. Flash was already feeling a bit more sanguine about the whole thing. Once he was finished, he handed his plate back to Flash with a bright ‘thank you’. He grumbled slightly when Flash wiped a blob of butter and strawberry jam off his cheek, but nothing more.

“What do you want to do today?” Flash asked over his shoulder as he busied himself with washing the dishes. Mark hummed thoughtfully.

“Can we watch _Pokémon_?” he asked hopefully. Flash smiled to himself.

“Yes we can. Do you want to do some colouring, as well?”

Mark brightened. “Yes, please!” And then, shyly, after a pause: “Do you want to colour too?”

“I’ll have a go, but I’m a bit out of practice,” Flash admitted, sipping his coffee.

“That’s OK,” Mark reassured him. “I can show you how to do it.”

“That’s very kind. Go get dressed first, OK?”

“Can’t I stay in my pyjamas?” Mark pouted.

“No, lovey, I need to wash them. Laundry day today, remember?”

Mark huffed a little, but nodded. “Alright,” he mumbled.

“Do you need any help getting dressed?”

“Nuh uh! I’m a big boy.”

“Of course. My mistake.”

To Flash’s relief, little Mark really could dress himself, and emerged from the bedroom a few minutes later in shorts and an old Defend Indy Wrestling t-shirt. He was still holding his Pikachu. He parked himself on the floor in front of the TV while Flash set up the DVD. He had the enormous pack of crayons he’d bought, and a small pile of colouring books, sitting in front of him. Just as Flash stood up and began heading off to do the laundry, he felt a tug on his t-shirt.

“I thought you said you were gonna colour,” Mark said in a small voice.

“I will in a bit, alright? I’ve just got to put the laundry on,” Flash replied. Mark looked up at him with his best puppy eyes.

“Just a bit? Please?” he asked. Flash sighed. He’d wanted to get the laundry out of the way, and once that was sorted he’d have to start on lunch, and he still hadn’t made the beds—

And Mark was looking at him so expectantly and hopefully, and how the hell was Flash meant to say no? He sighed again and sat down on the floor next to Mark. “Half an hour,” he said, trying not to smile, and Mark’s face lit up. He handed Flash a colouring book.

To hell with the laundry. Mark was happy, and that was all Flash needed.


End file.
